Mystery of the Dark Tower (8 page)

In the next block, Bessie stopped to read a flyer posted on a storefront window. “Hey, look,” Bessie said. “Maybe this has something to do with Miss A.W. and Papa.”

Lillian joined her and began to read the flyer out loud.

The 135th Street New York Branch Library proudly presents Countee Cullen, winner of the Harmon Foundation Gold Medal Award and other prizes. He will be reading his poems “The Ballad of the Brown Girl” and “Copper Sun.” Cullen is also the assistant editor of
Opportunity: A Journal of Negro Life—

Lillian stopped reading and shrugged. “It's just a flyer about a poet reading at the library.”

“Yes,” Bessie said, “but see here in the smaller print where the page is torn? It says, ‘His own Dark Tow—' I bet that would spell
Dark Tower
. What else could it spell? Maybe this Cullen man owns the Dark Tower where Papa and Miss A.W. are staying.”

“You could be right. We could go to the 135th Street public library now and ask someone,” Lillian said.

“But
we
can't go there,” Bessie said.

“Sure we can,” Lillian said. “It is not that far. We can walk there long before it's closed.”

“I mean coloreds can't go in the library,” Bessie said.

“Of course we can,” Lillian said. “Why wouldn't we be able to go in?”

“In the South, colored people can only go into libraries to clean,” Bessie explained.

“Well, in Harlem you can go in and read. Now come on,” Lillian said.

When Bessie walked into the 135th Street New York Branch Library, she felt as though she were walking into a wondrous dream. Everywhere she looked she saw books. Books on shelves. Books on tables. Glass cases with books in them. A few people sat reading at long tables. Posters of books and framed pictures of colored people were on the walls. Bessie could never have imagined this back in Burlington—that one day she, Bessie Carol Coulter, would be standing in a library filled with books.

The hush of the room was like a silent song to Bessie. Only in North Carolina, lazing on the banks of a stream, had she felt such peace and serenity. Bessie felt like this was the kind of place she could stay in forever. A place to go when nothing else was right.

“Look,” said Lillian, pointing to a case. “These books were written by colored people from all over the world.”

“I don't believe it,” Bessie said. “That ain't true. Colored people ain't write this many books.”

Lillian pulled Bessie over to a shelf. “These are all newspapers by coloreds. See this book, that book, those over there? All written by colored men and women.”

Bessie looked in one book after another. She sat at a table flipping through the pages of the newspapers. She read some of the headlines, amazed to find stories about colored people on all the pages. The papers talked about all kinds of things having to do with colored people. There were names like W. E. B. Du Bois and Paul Robeson and information about The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. Bessie read many other names that Aunt Nellie had mentioned. And there were lots of things written about rich colored people.

Bessie was sure now that she could find information about Miss A.W. right here in this library. Bessie searched through old issues of magazines for any sign of Miss A.W.

Bessie picked up the issue of
Opportunity
from May 1925 and found a wonderful surprise. Right there in its pages was Mr. Langston Hughes's poem “The Weary Blues,” awarded first prize in a poetry contest. Bessie could not help grinning. For a second this made her forget all about Miss A.W. and the Dark Tower.

Lillian came over and said, “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” Bessie said, feeling guilty.

“I'm looking over there,” Lillian said, pointing to a stack of books. “But it's getting late. We have to hurry.”

“I'll hurry Where's Eddie?” Bessie asked.

“He's over there reading old copies of
The Brownie's Book
,” Lillian said, pointing. “That's a magazine for colored children.”

Bessie began reading again, feeling like there just wasn't enough time to look in all these books, magazines, and newspapers. She opened a newspaper, flipped a few pages, and froze. In the center of the page was a photograph of a beautiful woman. And underneath the photograph was the name A'Lelia Walker. A.W.! But was it
the
woman? Bessie hadn't seen her face very clearly, only her silhouette under the street lamp. Was it just a coincidence that this woman's initials were A.W? No, it had to be her.

“Come here,” Bessie called to Lillian and Eddie. When they rushed over, Bessie excitedly pointed to the photograph. “Look!”

“Shhhhh,” said a woman behind a desk.

Bessie took a deep breath. Her heart raced as her voice squeezed out, “Lillian, is this the woman you saw with Papa?”

Lillian studied the photograph. “Yes, that's the woman,” she said.

“D-does it s-s-say anything about the Dark Tower, Bessie?” Eddie asked.

“It doesn't say anything about that in this paper. I looked through some other papers, but I didn't see anything else about it,” Bessie said.

“You could ask the librarian,” Lillian said.

Bessie walked over to the woman who had shushed her. “Ma'am,” Bessie said. “Do you know where Mr. Countee Cullen's Dark Tower is?”

The woman pushed wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose. “Why, yes,” she said. “Follow me and I'll show you, children.”

Bessie, Eddie, and Lillian gave each other excited looks. This was going to be easier than they had thought! But was she going to walk with them all the way to the Tower?

Suddenly Bessie hesitated. She wasn't sure she was ready to come face-to-face with Miss A.W. and Papa. What would she say? What if Papa got really mad at her? What if he got so mad he
never
came back? Bessie shoved these thoughts from her mind. She had to find Miss A.W at the Dark Tower and break her spell.

They marched behind the librarian to the other side of the room, where there was a tiered wooden rack. “Here, start with this one,” the librarian said, passing Bessie an issue of
Opportunity
.

“Where is it?” Bessie asked, taking the magazine. “You mean the address for the Dark Tower is in here?”

“Let me see. I'll look it up for you,” the librarian said, taking the magazine from Bessie's hand and flipping rapidly through the pages. “Here you are. Right there.” She pointed to a page.

Bessie took the magazine and held it up. She frowned. There was nothing there to help them. “How do we get there, though?” Bessie asked.

“Get there? Here it is. Look,” the librarian said, pointing to a section of the magazine. “See, right there. It's Countee Cullen's column, ‘The Dark Tower.' You do know what it is, don't you? It's a column that Mr. Cullen writes where he discusses the literature of Negroes. I suspect you might not understand all of it because it's written for adults.”

Bessie felt sick to her stomach. Was the Dark Tower a magazine column, not a place?
All this trouble for nothing
, Bessie thought. This was a dead end. So what if she had found the picture of the woman? They were no closer to finding her than before.

“Thank you, ma'am,” Bessie said. Then she turned to Lillian and Eddie. “Come on, let's go,” she said.

“I'm sorry,” Lillian said, looking as sad as Bessie.

“We c-c-could look some m-more.”

“I just want to go home,” Bessie said, hanging her head. They walked past a colored man sitting at a desk reading a book. He wore a blue pinstripe suit and a bow tie. His full face sported glasses and a thick mustache. His waved brown hair was parted down the middle.

“Excuse me, children,” he said. “Let me introduce myself. I'm Arthur Schomburg.”

“Arthur A. Schomburg?” Lillian almost shouted. “I saw your name over there on that bookcase. My father has told me about you. You collected a lot of the books in this library, didn't you?”

“Yes, I did,” Mr. Schomburg said.

“I'm sorry, sir, but we need to go,” Bessie said, wishing Lillian would come on.

Mr. Schomburg stood up. “Did I hear you asking about the Dark Tower?”

Bessie perked up. “Yes, sir, we were,” she said. “But it's a thing and not a place like we thought.”

“As a matter of fact, there
is
a place called the Dark Tower,” Mr. Schomburg said.

Bessie's heart began to thump. “Do you know where it is?” she asked.

“Yes. It's at 108-110 West 136th Street. Here, I'll write the address down for you.”

Bessie's entire body shook as she took the piece of paper. This man had given her the key to finding Papa.

On their way out, the librarian came out from behind her desk and stopped them.

“Wait just a minute. I had no idea you were looking for that place,” the librarian said. “It's not for children, you know. I've heard some pretty wild stories about that place.”

As soon as they were outside, Bessie said, “Let's go to the Dark Tower right now.”

Lillian shook her head. “We have to be home before supper. We don't have time to look for it. Besides,” she said, “didn't you hear the librarian? She said she'd heard wild stories. And it
is
called the
Dark
Tower.”

“It c-c-could be scary,” Eddie said.

“Or dangerous,” Lillian added.

“Then tomorrow I'll go alone,” Bessie said, even though she agreed it sounded like a scary place. But if that's where she could find this Miss A'Lelia Walker and Papa, nothing would stop her from going to the Dark Tower.

C
HAPTER
7

F
IXING
L
EGS

All the way home, Bessie thought about the Dark Tower. Lillian and Eddie must have been thinking about it, too. Nobody was talking.

Bessie wondered what she could say when she saw Miss A'Lelia Walker. Would she be able to just walk right into the Dark Tower, or would there be an adult outside to keep children out, like at the rent party? Could she go there and ask for Papa? If she did, what would Papa do when he found out she'd been snooping around in grown folks' business? Would he whip her? Bessie didn't care.

But suppose he refused to leave? If that happened, there was nothing she could do. Nothing.

In that moment Bessie understood what action she must take. It was the only way. As they neared their block, Bessie said, “Lillian, do you think Miss Flo can put a conjure on a
woman?
”

“I don't know,” Lillian said, stopping. “But what I do know is that going to that Dark Tower doesn't seem like a good idea.”

“I-I don't think y-you should g-go, either,” Eddie said. “What if it's a really b-bad place?”

They were almost home. “Eddie, you wait on our stoop. If you see Aunt Esther, tell her that Lillian and me went around the corner to the store.” Then she took Lillian by the hand and pulled her along.

“W-w-where you g-g-going?” Eddie asked.

“Yes,” Lillian said, stopping. “Where
are
we going? I'm not going to that Tower.”

“We're going to see Miss Flo,” Bessie said.

“Miss Flo?” Lillian said. “Are you crazy?”

“If Miss Flo can put a conjure on a man to make him fall in love, then she can put a conjure on a woman, too. I'm going to ask Miss Flo to put a conjure on Miss Walker.”

“I'm not going,” Lillian said.

“You have to come with me. You know her better than I do. Please. You said you'd help.”

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” Lillian asked.

Bessie nodded.

“Well, I did say I'd help. All right. I'll go with you,” Lillian said. “I'd rather go see Miss Flo than go to that Dark Tower place anyway.”

“I-I-I w-w-want to go with you,” Eddie said.

“No. It's not safe,” Bessie said. “You can help by doing what I asked you, please.” She didn't want Eddie to get mixed up in this. Bessie was afraid of what might happen. There was no reason to put Eddie in danger, too.

Eddie stomped on the ground. “It's n-not f-f-fair.”

Bessie understood then that being without Mama and Papa must be even harder on Eddie than it was on her. After all, he was younger. Plus, Aunt Esther was always on him about stuttering. But this had to be done, and she couldn't risk getting Eddie hurt. She was his big sister. She had to protect him. Bessie hugged Eddie. “Please,” she pleaded.

He shrugged. “But if you're not b-b-back soon, I-I-I'm coming to get you.”

Bessie and Lillian walked down to the end of the block and up Miss Flo's steps.

As Bessie reached up to ring the doorbell, she froze. There was white powder all over the top steps. “What is that?” Bessie whispered, pointing.

“It's a part of her conjures,” Lillian answered. “Don't step on it. Your feet might fall off!”